


Closed Circuit

by the_deep_magic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Doubles, M/M, Magic, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don’t piss off the witch on the third floor.  Well, not <i>too</i> often.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closed Circuit

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Derek/Stiles/Derek threesome (but no self-cest)  
> Spoilers: mention of S3 character, but not S3 compliant and no spoilers
> 
> For the “mirrors/doubles” square on my Kink Bingo card. Because magic should always lead to porn.

Stiles shoves the front door open, gasping, “Okay, what’s the emergency that you couldn’t tell me about over the— _holy fucking shit on a shingle_.”

In one corner of the loft, Isaac and Boyd are holding back Derek.  In the opposite corner, Cora and Scott are holding back… Derek.

“Wasn’t time to tell you,” Scott grunts, struggling against his Derek’s arms, and Stiles doesn’t need werewolf senses to know that Scott is a filthy liar.  They all are – they were totally playing Stiles for the drama, he just knows it.  Werewolves and their _drama_ , yeesh.  To be fair, though, this is something that really has to be seen to be believed, and Stiles would’ve driven over here even faster if he’d known.  Wait, maybe that was why they didn’t tell him. 

“Which one is the real Derek?” Stiles asks, and the twin growls – in stereo – immediately let him know that was the wrong thing to ask.

“I don’t think there _is_ a ‘real’ one,” Isaac says.  “They smell exactly the same, they seem to have the same memories.  It wasn’t like one just showed up.  One second Derek was standing there, the next second there were two of him.”

Stiles sighs.  “The witch on the third floor again?”

“It’s like he’s constitutionally incapable of _not_ pissing her off,” Cora groans.

“He tends to have that effect, yeah,” Stiles says, and knows they’re all thinking about Derek with webbed feet, Derek with a constant and terrifying smile frozen on his face, Isaac turning a snazzy shade of blue (he’d made the mistake of going up with Derek that time to confront her about the weird animal smell – nobody but Derek has confronted her since).  All the spells wore off within a week, because Gwendolyn is unfortunately both creative and easily offended, but she’s not malicious or dark.

Still, Stiles can see how this would present some more serious problems for the pack and the territory, since both Dereks probably think it’s theirs.  And Derek, despite his immense personal growth over the past four years, will never excel at playing well with others, even himself.  But _there’s_ a thought that brings to mind one of Stiles’ more obscure fantasies.

Scott yells “Aw, c’mon, dude, at least wait until we leave” at Stiles over the growling, and it’s only then Stiles realizes he has a Cheshire cat grin on his face.

“ _Should_ we leave?” Boyd says.  “I know they’ve been demanding to see Stiles, but how do we know they both won’t, uh, attempt to divide Stiles equally between them.  Or just both try to… y’know… at the same time.”

“Okay, let’s try something,” Stiles says quickly, moving to the center of the room.  “Bring them towards me – slowly.”  He wants to reassure them both, soothe them with his scent and his touch, but he’s afraid that if he goes to one Derek before the other, they’ll fight.  Over him.  Which is kind of hot in theory, but potentially very messy.

He stretches one arm out toward each of them, looking back and forth as Cora, Scott, Boyd, and Isaac slowly let the Dereks pull them forward.  “It’s okay, Derek,” Stiles says, because using the singular seems like the less dangerous option.  And they are, after all, both Derek.  “Calm down, I’m here.  I’m not going anywhere.”

Though they’ve both got some vicious red-eye going on, Stiles is pleased to see the fangs and claws retract.  “Yeah, good,” Stiles says, slumping a little with relief, because it’s not like he thinks Derek would ever hurt him… but neither would he let someone else lay claim to him.  “That’s good.  Come here.”

Luckily, they both get to him at roughly the same time, and he presses a palm to their respective cheeks, lets them nuzzle and sniff.

When Stiles tips his head back to bare his throat to both of them, the change is instantaneous.  They stop struggling against the betas and gently press themselves against either side of Stiles the first chance they get.  Suddenly, Stiles has warm lips and scratchy stubble rubbing against both sides of his neck, and it’s not going to be very long before everyone in the room, let alone the Dereks, will be able to smell the effect this is having on Stiles.

He hasn’t even gotten out “You guys might wanna—” before everyone is out the door.

“Buy brain bleach!” Scott yells as he shuts it behind him.

So now it’s just Stiles.  And the Dereks.  Stiles and two Dereks.  Stiles can’t decide whether this is fucked up or fucking awesome.  No, that’s not quite right – he can’t decide whether it’s fucked up that he thinks it’s fucking awesome.

“Hey, guys,” he murmurs, stretching his arms at awkward angles so he can scritch his nails against the back of their heads the way Derek likes.  “Everything’s fine, all right?  I’m right here.  I’m yours.”

They don’t seem overly concerned with whether Stiles is speaking to only one of them – knowing Derek, each one probably assumes Stiles is speaking to _him_ – but they do seem concerned with the amount of clothing Stiles is wearing.  His plaid shirt is gone and there are hands – god knows whose – sliding up under his t-shirt and he hopes they don’t require any complicated problem solving skills from him in the near future, because he can’t _think_.

“Bed?” he asks, figuring there’s no point in delaying the inevitable.  They both grunt an affirmative and, hey, whaddya know, they’re working together to lift Stiles right off the ground and carry him to the bed conveniently placed right in the living room.  Stiles always thought that was weird – right up until he started sleeping with Derek.  Then it was the best thing _ever_ , because there were no pesky stairs or even doorways to contend with.

They set him down by the bed on his feet, and he’s about to complain about the continuing verticality of the situation until he feels four – count ‘em, four – hands stripping away the rest of his clothes.  Oh god, that’s so efficient it’s practically German.  He should always have two Dereks for this.  Other reasons, too, but efficiency is important, dammit.

Stiles flops gracelessly back onto the bed, staring up at a pair of eager yet not naked boyfriends.  “Clothes.  Off,” is the most Stiles can manage as he scoots himself the right way around on the bed. 

Their movements aren’t completely identical, but they both strip the way Derek does, devastatingly sexy in the way he never tries to be sexy while doing it.  And Stiles will need a closer look – a much closer look – but they appear to be alike in every way.  The same broad shoulders and thick biceps. The same tantalizing trail of hair leading down from the navel.  Hell, even the same tiny mole in the hollow of the right hip.  It doesn’t seem like there have been any Star Trek-esque divisions of personality – they are both fully and wholly Derek.  There’s just… two of him.  This is some good, quality magic right here.  Stiles should go upstairs and ask for lessons some time.

Later, though.  Much, much later.

All Stiles has to do is open his arms and both Dereks are on the bed, kneeling over either side of him.  They’re not even looking at each other, just at him, and the fact that he doesn’t know which Derek to look at almost makes him laugh.  He can’t hold back a grin, though, and both Dereks relax a little more.

And then there are hands all over him, _all_ over him, and he can’t even think.  Derek’s hands are broad and smooth and they know all of the places Stiles likes to be touched (though, honestly, it’s hard to go wrong as long as claws aren’t involved).  It’s so overwhelming that Stiles has to close his eyes, and when he arches his back to press into one set of hands, another slides beneath him and holds him up.  He legitimately thinks he might cry, and they’ve barely even started.

Derek’s not very vocal – revision: not very _verbal_ – in bed, a fact which Stiles is now grateful for because he’s not sure he could handle two Dereks talking at him.  Their banter is really a two-person thing.  Plus, the Dereks would probably argue with each other and, while it would be hilarious, it would not get Stiles double-laid any faster.

This isn’t something he’s thought about much.  No, scratch that, he _has_ thought about a threesome, but only as a distant sort of fantasy, one never meant to be played out in real life.  To his great surprise, he turned out to be the kind of guy who doesn’t do casual, and it probably means he’s been hanging around werewolves too long, but he’s never been able to seriously entertain the idea of sharing his partner, even for a night.  But this is different: he’s not sharing Derek with anyone, and when this spell wears off, he’s pretty sure Derek will remember both perspectives.  Fuck, that thought is pretty hot, too.  Maybe he can get Derek to tell him all about it.  Naked.

So it’s not long before he’s rock hard, his dick twitching against his belly every time one of Derek’s hands finds a particularly nice spot – like the dip just below his spine, oh god, that’s a good one.  There’s movement on either side of him, and he looks up to see both Dereks reaching for his cock.  When their hands bump, they’re finally forced to look at each other and they snarl, eyes red, and holy shit, Stiles’ duplicate boyfriends are getting territorial _over his cock_.

This is his life now.  It’s kind of complicated, but no one can deny that it has its perks.

“Hey,” he says, forcing the small squeak out of his voice.  “You” – he looks at the Derek on his left – “suck me, and you” – to the Derek on his right – “get up here and kiss me.”

It’s a good thing that Derek likes it (or, at the very least, tolerates it) when Stiles gets bossy, because otherwise things could’ve gotten ugly.  He makes sure to put a hand in each Derek’s hair, staying connected to them both.  Left Derek gets to Stiles’ mouth just in time to inhale the moan that shakes out of Stiles when Right Derek licks a hot, wide stripe up Stiles’ cock.

Stiles is certain something important in his nervous system is going to short circuit, because it’s not just that there are two mouths on him – it’s that they’re both recognizably _Derek’s_.  Derek’s stubble against Stiles’ lips, the sharp nibble of his teeth.  The soft inside of Derek’s mouth around Stiles’ cock, the deft swirl of his tongue.  Stiles is pretty sure he’s actually vibrating, only tethered to this particular plane of existence by his grip on Derek’s hair and the two pairs of hands holding on to him.

Those same hands soothe his trembling body until he can relax enough to appreciate it.  As soon as he does, Derek groans happily around his cock and Derek sighs contentedly right against Stiles’ ear.  Derek kisses at his jaw, giving him leave to take huge gulps of air when Derek rubs a spit-slick finger against Stiles’ hole.  Derek teases so wickedly, gently circling Stiles’ tight rim in time with the bob of his head.  The other Derek is no better, putting the barest hint of teeth into the sucking kisses along Stiles’ neck, and he wonders briefly if each can read the other’s thoughts.

He hopes they have something in mind because Stiles is presented with too many possibilities.  How can he choose?  One of those gorgeous, thick cocks is going in him (and _only_ one – maybe he’ll have the patience later to let Derek stretch him enough for more, but he’s too eager for that now) and, yeah, okay, he wants to fuck Derek while Derek is fucking him.  They should have time to try out other combinations before the spell wears off, but this is what Stiles wants most.  To be inside Derek and have Derek inside him at the same time.

The hardest part is pulling both of their mouths away from his body, because he would love to come down Derek’s throat while Derek’s kissing him breathless, but that can wait.  “S-stop,” he gasps when Derek lets him up for air, and both of them ease back.  “Don’t want to come yet.  I want you first.  Want both of you.”

The synchronized eyebrow lift makes him laugh; he can’t help it.  The double scowl that follows only makes him laugh harder, but he tugs at their hair until they’re on either side of him and he can look at both of them.  “I love you,” he gasps.  “Oh my god, I love you so much.  Come here.”  He drags them down close so all he has to do is turn his head to kiss first one, then the other, back and forth, both tasting like different parts of Stiles but the same underlying essence of Derek.

He turns to the Derek closer to the nightstand.  “Lube?”

Derek has to roll away to grab it, but Stiles keeps one hand on his back to maintain the connection.  As long as they’re both touching him, it’s like a completed circuit, like both Dereks are one again instead of fighting with each other.  Stiles doesn’t know how he’s going to keep that up until the spell wears off, but he’s willing to try.

They don’t even fight over the lube – so apparently Derek _will_ share his toys, but only with himself.  Which makes Stiles… what, exactly?  But he doesn’t have time to think about that because they’re turning him onto his side, hitching one of his legs up so that both Dereks can push a slick hand between them.

Stiles really hopes he managed to hold back that little squeak he almost made when two index fingers start circling his hole, but probably not.  Still, they work him open slowly, and Stiles can’t tell whose finger pushes in first, but soon they’re both fucking into him with alternating thrusts and yeah, Stiles is definitely going to try to find the patience for some DP action later.  He doesn’t think the Dereks will object.

First, though, he has to survive this, and that requires prepping Derek, because once Derek’s dick’s in him, he won’t be good for much more than moaning and thrusting – which, luckily, should be the only things required of him.  He grabs the bottle of lube from where it’s fallen on the bed and kisses the Derek in front of him.  “On your back,” he says, as commanding as he can.  “I want to fuck you while he’s fucking me.”

Stiles can only see one smirk, but he can feel the other one pressed against the back of his neck.  It takes some rearranging, and both of them have to pull their fingers out of Stiles to make it happen, but once Stiles has one Derek lying on his back, hips up on a pillow and legs spread wide, the other Derek slides two wet fingers back into him from behind.  Even that is enough to make his hand shake as he fingers Derek open.

He has no idea how long it goes on, but eventually Stiles is aware that all three of them are making guttural, impatient sounds, and that’s just unacceptable.  “Okay,” he gasps, slicking his cock in preparation.  “I’d better go first.  I’m just gonna—”

As if on cue, the Derek lying on the bed lifts his legs and the Derek behind him grabs his counterpart’s ankles, pushing them high and wide until the Derek on his back is practically folded in half.  “Oh god,” Stiles moans, not sure he’s going to last long enough to even thrust inside.  “Oh my _god_ , that is— You motherfucker, I fucking hate you so much right now.”

The Derek behind him laughs and the Derek in front of him just grins wickedly and strokes lazily at his own cock.  The little surge of irritation that rises up is enough to get Stiles moving, to ease his cock into Derek in one long, slow plunge that makes them both groan.  Stiles falls forward, catching himself with his hands on either side of Derek’s chest, and Derek tilts his face up to kiss him as the other Derek begins to work his way inside Stiles with shallow, rocking thrusts.

It shoves him even deeper into Derek, and when they’re all three pressed as close together as they can possibly be, Stiles literally surrounded by the man he loves, his heart is too full, he can’t breathe.  He’s never had a panic attack from something being _too good_ before, but this is so far beyond anything he could have ever conceived of that he feels overwhelmed, almost detached from his body.

But he’s got his Dereks there to kiss his eyelids and bite down gently on the back of his neck and hold him until he can breathe again.  “Thank you,” he whispers, kissing one set of lips, then turning to kiss the other.  “Thank you.”

They let him make the first move, Stiles pushing up on his hands and getting just enough room to rock back, then forward.  For the moment, the Dereks are staying still, letting Stiles alternate between burying himself inside Derek and fucking himself back on Derek’s cock.  He has to keep his pace slow, but he still breaks out in a sweat almost immediately.  On his own, he can’t hold Derek’s legs up like this for more than a minute, and even when he tries, he’s concentrating too hard to enjoy it.  But now, having Derek so physically open to him, being able to thrust so deep, is unreal, and being able to fill himself with Derek’s cock on the outstroke is mindbending.

Slowly he becomes aware of the Derek behind him rocking with him and the Derek in front of him rolling his hips up.  It’s a gloriously strange push-pull rhythm that doesn’t quite match up with Stiles’, so that sometimes he’s not getting enough of either man and sometimes he’s pinned hard between the Dereks’ bodies, both achingly full and unbearably deep.  It’s more graceful than it has any right to be – probably because Stiles is only one-third of the equation – and the dual sensations of fucking and being fucked just build and build.

Eventually, Stiles has both hands planted on Derek’s chest.  Sweat’s dripping in his eyes and his hips are snapping forward carelessly, making Derek’s rock-hard cock bounce against his flexing abs.  Stiles wants to touch him so badly, but his arms are already shaking and he doesn’t think he can hold himself up with just one.  Derek’s hands are stroking all over Stiles’ body, and he doesn’t even know if he can come like this; he’s too worked up now, too overloaded with sensation.  He needs to get his focus off himself for a while.

“Please,” he begs, voice so hoarse it’s almost unrecognizable to his own ears. “Please touch yourself.  Let me see.”

The Derek on his back reaches down and tugs at himself, but both Dereks groan at the shiver than runs through Stiles at the sight.  Even after all this time, everything they’ve done together, Stiles still gets off on watching Derek pleasure himself.  Derek’s more comfortable having an audience now, but it’s still so private, a part of Derek that belongs only to Stiles, and he wonders if the Derek behind him can see.  If this will finally help Derek understand how beautiful he is when he lets himself feel good.

And if not, well, they’ll still have a magical doppelganger threeway to look back on.  Several, if Stiles has any say in the matter.

Because despite Stiles’ momentary worries, this one’s quickly approaching the end, Stiles’s thrusts going erratic and his fingers digging into Derek’s skin as it all becomes too much to bear.  He’s sobbing Derek’s name so loudly and trying so hard to keep moving that he has no idea who comes first, just that his vision goes gray around the edges and his body curls hard as he plummets over the edge.  One Derek is writhing beneath him and the other’s biting down on the back of his neck and his arms finally give out.

But there are hands there to catch him, to help him untangle himself from the mess of limbs the three of them have become.   Stiles feels suddenly cold and empty after so much contact, but with a decent amount of flailing (Stiles) and grunting (the Dereks), Stiles ends up laying comfortably on his back on the bed, Derek on either side of him.

Sadly, it would be too hot to have both of them curled against him right now – though later, he’s totally cranking up the AC and getting in the middle of the most epic cuddle sandwich in history.  But each Derek has a hand resting on Stiles’ chest, and Stiles clutches both of them, twining their fingers with his and holding tight.  Realistically, there will be problems if this doesn’t resolve itself soon, especially if Stiles needs to keep constant contact with both of them to keep them from attacking each other.  There’s no way there’s enough food in the fridge for two Dereks and a Stiles, and there’s no way he’s explaining any of this to the poor kid that delivers from the Thai place down the street.

Still though, totally worth it.  Stiles kisses them one at a time, gentle and sweet, and they both look every bit as blissed out as he feels.  Maybe later he can get them both sex-drunk enough to convince them to kiss each other.  With a huge grin on his face, Stiles whispers _I love you_ before he finally closes his drooping eyelids to rest easy, hands still held tight.

Before he drifts off, he makes a mental note to send Gwendolyn a fruit basket.  Or maybe two.

**Author's Note:**

> (Because I have to.)
> 
> "Now, now. Perfectly symmetrical violence never solved anything."  
> ~Prof. Hubert Farnsworth


End file.
